


Bars on the Floor

by ItsClydeBitches



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: ...yeah, Banter, M/M, That's about it!, Tumblr Prompt, attempts at smut, workouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 11:46:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7313989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short fill for the prompt: </p><p>"Jesse working out and cassidy sitting on him and jesse having Impure Thoughts about cass sitting on him and cassidy having Impure Thoughts about how jesse's blood is pumping (and pumping in interesting directions)"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bars on the Floor

**Author's Note:**

> So this is just general note to all my Preacher fic readers and prompters and lovelies: YOU'RE ALL AMAZING. I'm an awful person who only really responds to comments if there's a question/discussion there (I would happily spend my days just yelling "Thanks!!" at each and every one of you but, ugh, WORK) so just know that I am absolutely reading every comment and spotting every kudos and SQUEALING over them all. (Seriously. I'm a happy mess in the mornings when there's fic stuff waiting). 
> 
> So yeah. Basically you all rock. Hope you enjoy the fic <3

“This is you on the cheap, ain’t it?”

Jesse spotted Cass in the doorway of the shed, grinning like the Joker and Cheshire Cat had a damn abomination of a kid. He’d have thrown back something snarky if he’d been able to spare the breath. As it was, Jesse settled for flipping him off.

“Oooh. Not too heavy without that pinkie helpin’, is it?” Cass shuffled in, shaking his head.

He wasn’t wrong. “On the cheap” was the way to go in Annville, where there were few prospects and the money circled within a twenty block radius. Jesse didn’t have the funds for any fancy lifting equipment. Didn’t want it either. Real strength came from hard labor, old-fashioned bar fights... and whatever you could scrap together that was within reach. Hence this.

Cass was still snickering, the plank high over Jesse’s head and the bags carefully draped over each side. He finally lowered it down onto his chest, sitting up slightly to glare.

“Don’t you got anything better to do?” Jesse growled.

Cass just bit his lip and pointed like a freaking grade-schooler. “You’re liftin’ chicken feed.”

“Yep.”

“And manure. You’re liftin’ literal _shit_ , padre.”

“Good practice for dealing with you.”

“Aw, you wound me.”

Jesse rolled his eyes, not caring one wit what Cass actually thought of his irregular workouts. He knew he was something of a sight: laying out in the shed’s dirt floor, bare-chested and sweating up a storm, with--yeah--a bag of manure on his left. One false move and he could be stinking up a storm. It made for some kind of motivation.

Jesse grunted as he carefully got his hands under the plank and hefted the bags back up again. “Your teasing aside, Cass, this shit is pretty damn heavy.”

“Aye. Don’t doubt it. Big strong man like you...”  
  
Jesse spluttered out a laugh, the whole contraption wobbling. “Dammit, Cass!”

“I’m just messin’ with ya. Maybe. It’s oh so hard to tell,” and Cass sauntered forward, crouched down, crawled, and finally squirmed right on top of Jesse, ending with his ass planted right on top of Jesse’s dick.

Well. That made lifting more interesting.

Jesse wasn’t anything if he wasn’t stubborn though.

“Comfy?” he asked, throwing out a whole slew of cheek. Cass just sighed and stretched his legs on either side of Jesse, tipping his head toward the ceiling.

“I’m getting there,” he said before planting his feet and _grinding_.

Jesse kept his face as stoic as he could, arms locked and trembling above his head.

The bags hadn’t been this heavy before. He hadn’t been sweating this much either; the strain not nearly this immense. Still, Jesse ground his teeth and gripped tight to that plank, lowering it in slow, deliberate increments. Cass’ expression--amusement tinted with respect--was well worth it.

“How many a those can you do, hmm?” he asked, placing his hands on Jesse’s chest, brushing lightly over his nipples. Jesse let out a hiss.

“A lot,” he said, grunting. “Least I can when I haven’t got a damn bastard weighing me down.”

Cass bent to lick a strip across Jesse’s skin. “I’m helpin’ you an’ what. Like in those karate films.”

“That’s pushups, dumbass.”

“...same difference.”

“Except not.” Jesse huffed out a laugh, struggle to raise the plank again. “Jesus, Cass, I can’t fucking breathe.”

“Don’t see why. Not like I’m anywhere near your lungs,” and with a grin Cass bent, taking a bite out of Jesse’s shoulder.

It wasn’t anything serious, just enough pressure to break that fine, tanned skin. Which was more than Cass needed of course. What with Jesse doing this for who knew how long his blood vessels were nice and dilated, filled with oxygen and pouring straight past Cass’ lips. He moaned right as Jesse yelped, using his weight to keep the larger man pinned. This then... this was _good_. Cass had heard of a few like him in other parts of the world, fuckers who liked straight up hunting their food, no doubt wanting the blood pumping and flowing like it was now. Didn’t see why they needed fear though when this was such a damn good alternative.

“You taste real fine, Padre. That you do...”

Cass didn’t like to brag, but he was something of a connoisseur when it came to blood. Having spent multiple decades sampling every kind imaginable, he could honestly say that human blood was damn superior to an animal’s. Maybe it was a natural preference or something, but even among humans Cass could taste the differences: who was old, who’d indulged in drink, who’d recently been injured, who needed to visit their doctor for goddamn anemia (he’d really done that once, stopped feeding off the asshole who’d attacked him in the bar with a, “Fuck, mate. When’s the last time you saw your general practitioner, eh?”). All this let Cass say with some authority that Jesse’s blood was fucking fantastic. If lifting shit in his spare time kept him this fit, he should sure as hell do it more often.

“Too refined for this mouth,” he chuckled.

With clotting already starting Cass lapped at the wound, rocking with each stroke of his tongue. He felt Jesse trembling under his hands--the stupid bastard somehow still keeping his ‘weights’ lifted high. Jesse lowered them with a groan and the scent of pine filled Cass’ nose. He smiled at Jesse over the plank.

“You’re hard,” he said.

“Fucking brilliant observation.” Jesse blew damp hair out of his eyes. “Gonna do something about that?”

“Hmm. Don’t know if I should, what with you concentrating an’ all...”

With a curse Jesse heaved the bags once more, tossing all of it over to the side. Cass laughed as he heard wood splintering.

“Time to concentrate on somethin’ else,” Jesse growled and tugged Cass down for a kiss.

Theres’ was never gentle, certainly not now when Jesse had adrenaline in his veins and what blood was left now coated Cass’ throat. He growled right back, keeping Jesse pinned underneath him when he made to roll, just because he knew it would piss him off. Sure enough Jesse bucked and Cass broke the kiss with a wild grin.

“Like riding a fuckin’ bronco,” he said, heaving.

“Right. Like you could handle a feral horse.”

“Don’t know, padre. I do know a bit or two about _barebacking_...”

It was teasing more than anything else. They didn’t have the time or the inclination for play longer than this, especially with the shed’s door wide open and a town full of people who could walk in at any moment. For Cass that always added a bit of spice to the deed, but Jesse had something of a reputation to maintain, even if his desire to do right by Annville was new and potentially short-lived. Stupid, do-gooder. His pleasure would have to be short-lived then too.

Cass wasn’t kind about it. Jesse had slipped on loose black pants for his workout and Cass got his hand in there easy, gripping around his base and pumping with nothing but a bit of precum to help everything along. Jesse wasn’t wearing anything _but_ those pants and Cass kept grinding down at the thought alone, just a thin bit of fabric between him and naked Jesse Custer...

Jesse was quiet too, like someone had taught him to stay that way at a damn young age. Cass looked up to find him mewling into his hand, the other hooked into the ground, back arched too tight. He was kicking dirt up into his wound and--hand still in place--Cass leaned to lick the dust away, thinking stupidly that he didn’t want his padre getting an infection. Fucking sentimental thoughts while he was jerkin’ him off, jesus.

Cass didn’t realize how close he was until he thought about not just fucking Jesse but caring for him too, the taste of drying blood in his mouth and Jesse’s sweat in his nose. With a cry Cass pulled off of Jesse so as not to hurt him, hands grasping the ground instead as he came hard in his jeans, his whole body pressing down as Jesse’s curved up. Cass felt him come just a second after him, arms over Cass’ back and trembling from his workout--Jesse’s legs trembling for an entirely different reason.

“Fuck,” he laughed, moments later. Jesse slapped Cass’ back. “You _are_ heavy. Sticky too. We both need showers now, dammit.”

Cass just grunted into his skin. He was used to feeling unwashed, but he did sit up so he didn’t crush the poor guy. Cass knew he looked a mess then--a little drugged and dopey from the orgasm, still wired from the blood--but Jesse’s smile said it wasn’t a bad look on him at all.

He lifted a hand and gave Cass’ cheek a fond pat. Cass pressed into the weight.

Then he coughed. “Alright. The fuck is that smell, huh?”

“You,” Jesse shot.

“Nah, I’m serious, you fart or somethin’? Own up, padre.”

“If I were five like _some_ people I’d cry ‘smelt it, dealt it,’ but...” Jesse wrinkled his nose, clearly catching the scent now too. Eventually his gaze traveled to the left. “... _fuck_. The manure broke.”

“The...?” Cass blinked, then snorted out a laugh.

“It’s not funny! Damn bag must have bust when I tossed it,  _shit_.”

“That holy trinity: blood, sex, and shit--”

“I _will_ beat you ass, Cass.” Jesse paused. “If Emily doesn’t hand me mine first...”

Cass just shook his head. His padre was a worrywart, like some little old maid or somethin’, but hell if he didn’t love him all the more for it. He’d help Jesse clean the shed and they’d get washed up. After all, it was a necessarily evil if Cass ever wanted Jesse’s workouts to go this way again.

And oh, did he ever.

Bloody bastard was still talking. Cass rolled his eyes and slid back down, planting a lingering kiss right below Jesse’s collarbone. After a moment he felt his padre relax, that heart slowing into a familiar rhythm.

When Cass pulled back there was a print in blood against Jesse’s skin.

A brand--burned there bright and smeared like lipstick.

**Author's Note:**

> [Feel free to stop by my tumblr (itsclydebitches) and send me a prompt!]


End file.
